


Mistake

by celestialenigma



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fairies, Gore, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, frukhalloweenweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialenigma/pseuds/celestialenigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis goes to visit Arthur one day on whim. Upon arrival, Francis ends up making a huge mistake. One that he may need to pay dearly for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Tumblr Halloween week: http://frukheaven.tumblr.com/post/131130762765/fruk-halloween-week-guidelines
> 
> Day 1 Prompt: I put a spell on you
> 
> I just wrote whatever came to mind when I saw the prompt. This makes sense in my mind and I hope I explained this enough so that it makes sense to you all as well. I guess it’s a bit weird but I like weird. Enjoy! Also, lame title is lame. But better than Fruk Halloween Day 1 I guess. LOL

Fruk Hallowe'en Event One- I put a spell on you

It had been a nice day and Francis had woken up in his own bed in a fantastic mood. He had decided to drive over to see his sometimes lover and most of the time rival, England, otherwise known as Arthur. He'd woken up early, so he took his car instead of the Eurostar. It wasn't so much that he didn't enjoy the Eurostar, but rather that he didn't want to be trapped in England while waiting for a train to depart. 

Francis simply played the radio and, in a little less than six hours, was knocking on Arthur's front door. 

As he waited for the door to open, he looked at his watch and noted that his timing was perfect. 

He was interrupting Arthur's tea-time. The Brit was fiercely protective of his tea-time and often refused people entrance to his home during that hour.

The door was opened and Francis had made sure that he was giving a seductive grin. 

"Angleterre! I was beginning to think that you'd never open up," said Francis sliding his leg in through the door to keep it open and wincing when it slammed shut on him.

"Go away! It's not a good time," said Arthur, grumbling and looking behind himself as if there was somebody there. 

Francis peered inside and didn't see anybody else, nation or human. He decided that Arthur was just being his normal, slightly odd, self.

Prying the door open just a tad more, Francis forced himself inside and smiled at the irritated Brit. 

"Oh don't mind me. I will just sit in the corner. You will hardly notice me," said Francis, waving a hand at Arthur dismissively.

Giving him a glare for a few moments longer, Arthur ended up sighing heavily and shaking his head, muttering what was likely profanities under his breath. Francis thought he heard the other nation mumble that he hoped France didn't do anything stupid. Francis wasn't entirely sure.

Francis followed the sandy haired man to the sitting room, where a blue china teapot was set out with matching cups and saucers. There were multiple places set, some with tea in cups and scones set on little plates. Some of them even had bites taken out. There was a rather large plate of scones. Francis couldn't help but chuckle.

Really, this man was so amusing. Sometimes teasing him required hardly any work at all. 

"Having tea with your imaginary friends are you?" said Francis, making him sound as if he were talking to a small child. 

"No, they are not imaginary. They are quite clearly right there," said Arthur, rolling his eyes as if Francis was the crazy one. 

As if he couldn't be bothered to explain, Arthur sat down at one of the seats and picked up his cup to continue drinking, a single pinky in the air. Francis watched at Arthur delicately bit into a scone and look around himself once more as if concerned about something.

Francis shook his head and breezed closer. He'd walked into scenes just like this too often during the millennia that he'd known this nation. At first he'd thought that Arthur made up these magical creatures because he was a child and lonely. However it had continued into adulthood and that was, quite honestly, ridiculous.

Usually, Francis just lightly teased the man, but never took it much further. That day, he decided to see how far he could push his rival, mostly because he had nothing better to do with his time. He wondered why he'd never bothered to do this before. 

Francis reached out to one of the unoccupied seats and, in a mocking tone, said, "And who is sitting here?"

"If you just opened your mind a single fragment wider, you'd be able to see her," said Arthur with an almost uncaring and bored tone of voice, "Her name is Sebille by the way."

As he touched the seat, he felt the barest tickle on his skin that felt almost like hair and the softest whispers of air blow over his hand. Francis, of course, thought nothing of it. 

He went to the next chair and stood beside it, "See there's nothing there," he said, quickly swishing his hand over the air right over the seat as if to slap the area.

Francis felt the blood drain from his face as the back of his hand collided hard with a small and fragile feeling body. He couldn't see what he had hit but there was no way he had imagined it. Looking down at the back of his hand he saw that it was covered in a faint shimmer.

"Oleta," cried Arthur, kneeling over a the old wooden floor of his home, staring down at nothing, cupping his hand over nothing and wiping at nothing with his handkerchief.

Francis heard the rumbling before he knew what was happening. Something shook the room, rattling the teacups until the amber liquid spilled onto the white lace of the tablecloth. Arthur stood up slowly and turned, a twist of a frown marring his face.

"You hurt her," said Arthur, voice far too calm.

The light from the sun outside slowly faded as the room darkened. All around Arthur, creatures began appear. Small and floating fairies, all of them quite beautiful and sweet looking.

Until they bared their teeth at Francis and he could see that their mouths were full of needle-like sharp teeth.

Francis felt a spike of emotion flit through him that he'd hadn't truly felt towards the other nation in over one hundred years - fear.

"I didn't know there was anything there. I'm still not convinced that I'm not still asleep in my bed in Paris having a nightmare," said Francis, taking a step back.

He knew that he'd be a fool to fight England without a weapon. The Brit was faster and better at fighting with his fists. If Francis could find some kind of antique sword, he'd be golden. He was always better with the weight of a steel blade in his hands, even if it had been far too long since he'd last fought anybody with one.

"I bloody told you that she was there," said Arthur, jolting forward, one hand grasping the collar of Francis' shirt and the other got right in his face, "You see this shimmery silver? That's her blood!"

Getting even closer, right up to his ear, Arthur whispered to Francis, "Run."

"As if I'd ever run from the chance to fight you. I don't know what kind of prank you are pulling but I know this is some sort of joke," said Francis, shoving at Arthur, who fell back.

Arthur snapped his leg out to trip Francis, who didn't dodge in time and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Grabbing a book nearby, Francis threw it at the Brit, who sidestepped it with ease. Francis got back to his feet with a bit of difficulty. His designer jeans were not meant for battling. Arthur, however, was in soft and stretchy house clothes. Those were easy to manoeuvre in.

In essence, Francis was without hope.

Before he knew what was happening, something hard and blunt was slammed down over his head. He collapsed to the floor and passed out.

#

When Francis awoke, he found that he couldn't move his arms or his legs. With much difficulty, he pried his eyes open even though they felt as if they were made of lead, and looked around himself with sleep blurred eyes.

He was strapped down onto a bed with heavy leather cuffs. There were characters of some sort painted onto his skin, still wet. Every inch of clothing he'd put on that morning had been stripped off, in a pile of torn fabric off in a corner.

The bed he was on was not, however, Arthur's. He'd never seen this room before. One wall was covered in shelves which held all kinds of oddities such as jars of eyeballs, jars of green and bubbling liquid, a shrunken head and a plastic sandwich baggy full of bones. There was a desk covered in books that were very clearly hundreds of years old, as well as piles of ancient paper. There was an old quill pen and bottle of ink upon the desk also. The other side of the room had shelves of seemingly innocent tools and even more books. On the shelf with the tools, there was a fairly well-cared for sword.

Walking into the room was Arthur, giving Francis a glimpse out into the basement. Beside Arthur was a floating creature. It was a flying bunny with green fur.

"Mon Dieu. I am either hallucinating or this is a really elaborate prank," said Francis.

Arthur ignored Francis and kept staring at the floating animal who was speaking, "There must be another way Arthur."

"There isn't," said Arthur, face still grim but reaching out to ruffle the fur of the creature, "Thank you for your concern Flying Mint Bunny but I've made my choice."

The animal nodded and flew out of the room, a gust of wind blowing it closed once more.

"I'm losing my mind," said Francis, rolling his eyes to the side and groaning, "Perfect."

Arthur walked to the side of the bed and stared down, a glint of something identifiable in his green eyes, glimmering and- swirling?

"I couldn't save her," said Arthur with a loud voice and then, mouthed the words, "You fool."

Being as old as he was, Francis had learned to read lips. 

"Who couldn't you save?" said Francis, but having a sinking feeling that he remembered.

"Oleta. A fairy noble I was entertaining. I'm not a healer I couldn't save her. She died."

Francis didn't know what to say, so he settled for, "Sorry."

Then Arthur frowned and shook his head, looking sad. His words, however sounded cruel and mocking, "You will be."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Francis said, "Can I not say sorry to her friends or something."

"She was nobility. You cannot simply say sorry. Her brethren are calling for blood."

Francis' eyes opened wide and he said, "Aren't fairies nice creatures?"

Arthur laughed at that, loud and ever so slightly manic, "They are nice to the humans they are close to, who are far and few between. When it comes to the rest of humanity, they are apathetic at best. They hadn't ever hurt you because I trusted you to never be so stupid. I thought you understood."

This was beginning to really irritate Francis, as well as scare him, "This is stupid. I couldn't see her there. I am sorry to have killed her but it isn't entirely my fault.What didn't I understand anyway? You aren't making a whole lot of sense."

"That doesn't matter. You've broken my trust."

"It'd hardly be the first time I've done that," snorted France, unable to keep the tremble out of his voice as he watched England grab a knife off of the shelf.

"Those times only affected me. They've never affected my alliance with the Unseelie court before. You have no idea what you've done. What you've forced me to do."

Francis had no idea what to say to that other than, "Huh?"

Arthur dragged the cool metal of the dagger across the skin of Francis' chest, "The court of more dark inclined fae."

"Oh," said Francis, still not understanding any of this and not taking his eyes off of the dagger, "So what happens now?"

"Now? I've already cast a spell on you. I will spill your blood and it will pay for your transgressions. An eye for an eye right?"

"But if what I did resulted in a death, wouldn't I need to be killed as well," said Francis, "That isn't possible for our kind so long as our country still stands strong."

The tip of the blade dipped into his skin and dragged up his chest, up and up, ending where his rib-cage did. Arthur went back down to the bottom of Francis' ribs and dragged the knife back up, deeper that time. Over and over.

Francis winced but used deep breathing to help him overcome the pain. He'd been through worse. After all, he'd been beheaded before. He'd come back to life whenever he'd died.

Getting on the bed and straddling him, Arthur brought the knife to Francis' forehead and began to carve. The dagger began to glow faintly as he did so. Francis wanted to buck the man off but simple could not move.

"This spell is powerful. You will not come back from it."

At that, Francis panicked. He wasn't sure he truly believed Arthur's words however things seemed so unreal and he didn't know what to think. All he knew was that he didn't want anything bad to happen to his people.

"Think of what this means!" cried Francis, "What could happen to my people?"

"I understand all of that so shut up," snarled Arthur, slapping Francis hard across the face.

Arthur grasped Francis' hair tight and pulled, causing the Frenchman to cry out. His hair had always been rather sensitive. Francis barely had time to react before a pair of lips slid gently onto his. The kiss was a simple closed mouth caress, contrasting greatly to what was going on. Francis was ever more confused but allowed the contact, if only because he was so stunned. As he was kissed, Francis felt the knife played along his sides, digging in his skin and splitting it apart.

Pulling back, Francis saw Arthur mouth the words, "I'm sorry."

Getting up from the bed, Arthur went and grabbed a bottle from the shelf.

Oil.

Tugging at the restraints on his wrists, Francis tried in vain to get free, he felt far too sluggish from whatever spell Arthur had cast upon him. He looked over to Arthur with undisguised panic. The two of them had done much to each other over the years, but it had never gone that far. They'd never taken each other without both of them wanting the same thing. Whenever they'd actually had sex, it had been gentle and tender.

"Arthur," said Francis, hoping that using the man's full name rather than a nickname would help show how important his next words were, "Please don't do this."

Making a show of being loud with uncorking the bottle, Arthur snarled, "Be thankful that I'm doing this much for you before I slay you alive."

Placing the bottle down a moment or two later, the sound of it hitting the table rang out into the otherwise silent room. Francis was confused. What in the world was going on?

Arthur put his mouth right next to Francis' ear and with words whispered so softly that they were barely audible, he said, "Play along. Act like I am raping you. Don't react to me regardless of what you see."

Arthur stayed clothed but got into position over Francis as if to thrust inside but didn't do so. Instead his eyes began to glow as well as his hands. Without his moving a muscle, a glowing strand of - something, Francis wasn't sure what though it looked sort of like a tentacle - slid around the bed and unbuckled the bindings restraining him.

Doing as Arthur asked, trusting the Brit, Francis began to scream. He was in enough pain from his wounds that had previously been inflicted to make his cries sound realistic. Plus he was a good actor if he did say so himself. Arthur also made a grunt every now and again.

Leaning down once the last of the restraints was off, Arthur said quietly, "Go get that sword off of the shelf. They'll realize something's wrong soon."

Then Arthur began to chant in words that Francis didn't understand. They sounded old and deep dark like some kind of forbidden language of their days before the Roman Empire had some into their lands and introduced them to new religions. 

Just as Francis grabbed the hilt of the sword, the door slammed open and tendrils of inky blackness poured into the room. Arthur leapt up to stand on the bed, his arms outstretched and his hands glowing and eve brighter green.

"You have forsaken your alliance with us Albion," spoke a voice that was so loud it shook the walls. 

A figure floated in, shrouded amongst shadows. The only things that Francis could see were glowing white eyes and shimmering wings like that of a fairy.

"I can't do this. I no longer need your alliance to expand my empire," said Arthur, running forward and slamming his fists into the darkness of the floating creature, “ I will not kill Francis.”

It opened it's mouth, that Francis had been unable to see before that point and snapped at Arthur with it's gleaming white fangs. Francis sprung into action with his rusty swordsmanship skills.

He swung at an open spot in the creature's flank as Arthur slammed another fist into the creature, allowing tendrils of energy to pulse through it.

Francis brought back his weapon and noticed briefly that it was covered in the same shimmery substance as the blood from the fairy that he'd injured earlier. In his distraction, Francis didn't notice a tentacle of shadow reach out for him and slither around his neck. Francis cut at the strand of black, gasping for breath. Though it parted from the creature it belonged to, the tentacle didn't relinquish it's hold. It only tightened further. 

"You may be immortal, but you are still only human. You will see what happens to one who kills a member of our noble courts," snarled the creature, "And to one who betrays us." 

Arthur muttered more words under this breath and punched the back of the creature's head. This propelled it forth just as Francis raised his sword. 

With a shrill wail, the creature crumbled away, floating to the ceiling as puffs of smoke as it dissipated. 

Francis fell to the ground, desperate for breath, the sword clattering to the hard and cold stone ground.

Arthur wavered as he stood, as if unstable on his feet, "Get up, there'll be more of them."

With disbelieving eyes, Francis got up and readied himself, wishing that he had clothes to wear into whatever battle he was fighting here. 

#

After around a half an hour, the two of them were exhausted. 

During their fights they had made their way to the bottom of the stairs of Arthur's basement. They were sitting their, covered in wounds and barely able to keep themselves awake.

With heavy breathing and half-lidded eyes, Francis lifted his shirt to expose his gaping stomach wound to Arthur.

"So what was that before about being able to kill me. This should be fatal," Francis looked and gagged at the sight of his innards that were still slightly visible in one spot, "I'd also like to know what the hell that was about."

Arthur leaned back and was still catching his breath. His skin looked paler and there were dark circles under his eyes. Francis wondered at what cost the magic he had been casting came.

"I'd long ago made an alliance with the dark fae. I shouldn't have but I was hungry for land. They helped me win battles," said Arthur, words slurring.

"And they'd never done this before?" asked Francis, “Forced you to cast spells on allies and try to attack you?”

This just didn't make sense to him. If those creatures were so evil, then why were they just doing this now?

"No. I'd kept them satisfied with enough blood before in all of my wars. I haven't been conquering other countries and killing people lately so they've been restless," said Arthur, "You killing Oleta was probably the last straw."

"You acted as if she was a close friend of yours," said Francis.

"I've had to!" said Arthur, exasperated, "If they knew how weary I was of their presence in my life, they would have killed me by now. I have my people to think about."

"So what was all the blood and hurting me about back there? And having to pretend that you were violating me?" said Francis, looking down at his wound which was healing even more so that he could no longer see inside of himself.

Arthur looked over at him, "I've never been able to take them on myself. My magic is of the darker kind. Sacrificing my own blood was not enough and I no longer wish to harm humans if I can help it. Besides, their blood spilled isn't enough. I needed to spill yours because you aren't mortal. There's more power in your blood. The fae were the ones who wanted me to violate you. I was just making it look like I was going to do their bidding. They were listening."

Francis sighed deeply and said, "I see."

"I'm sorry."

"Mmmm."

"There will be more of them at some point. We've taken down enough of them that it will be a while. You might as well leave now while you can."

"No. I will stay here and help you fight."

Arthur looked surprised, "Really? After what I did?"

"You had a reason. I know you didn't want to. Besides, we are supposed to be allies now, hmm?"

Standing up, Arthur held down at hand to Francis and said, "Well then let's get cleaned up and prepared. I don't know what kind of fight we have ahead of us."

Francis refused the help but smirked, "You know that I won't let you live this down?"

Arthur shook his head but there was the barest hint of a smile on his face, "I know."


End file.
